


Stole Away

by MayLovelies



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Another human Aziraphale au, Friendship, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-04
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2020-06-03 19:17:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19470427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MayLovelies/pseuds/MayLovelies
Summary: The angels punish Aziraphale by taking away his immortality. Crowley, realizing the one he loves will eventually die, finds a solution that Aziraphale is not fond of.





	Stole Away

**Author's Note:**

> I am in love with mortal!Aziraphale aus. I just am lol.

"It doesn't hurt, does it?" Crowley asked--not sure if that was the correct thing to say.

"No, no it doesn't." Aziraphale responded. "I just feel...present, I suppose. There is pain sometimes, like aches." He chuckled. "I've existed for over a million years--those aches and pains were going to eventually catch up to me."

It's almost as if he attempted to get Crowley to laugh or even smile, but the demon's face remained still. No matter how often Aziraphale's personality warmed Crowley, today things were different. Not even Aziraphale's most welcoming smile could change what had happened. 

"Well, a good sense of humor is apparently something I lack as a mortal as well."

Crowley shuddered, his shoulders slumping right before he stood from one of the old raggedy chairs in Aziraphale's workshop. "I don't like you calling yourself that--"

"What, a mortal? Crowley it's what I am now--"

"That doesn't mean it's right. It doesn't mean it's fair."

From where he stood, sorting books, Aziraphale sighed. "You Crowley, know more than anyone that Heaven is not fair to those of us who try to do good." He offered another smile. "Besides, be happy your lot let you off easy...well, they don't really care what you do. Those are the perks of being a demon."

Crowley didn't know what to say. He just watched helplessly as his ageless friend, now punished with mortality continued his daily business as if it was...nothing. As if weeks ago he didn't notice himself get sick for the first time, as if he didn't have to witness his celestial powers vanishing until there was nothing left, until that small connection he had with the angels vanished until he was simply another human man trying to reach heaven to no avail. He had changed a lot too. His white hair, now greying, a beard now sprouting from his face. There were bags under his eyes....and his eyes themselves were growing dull, as if there was no color in them. 

Despite all that, he still remained cheerful. He still wore a smile for Crowley, hid behind a facade for Crowley so that the demon wouldn't suspect that what the angels had done to him hurt him. Yet, Crowley wasn't a fool. He could see right through Aziraphale, he always could. 

"You know---after all of this---i'm still shocked you visit me; put up with me. I'm not the enticing angel I once was."

That was another thing; Aziraphale was far more harsh on himself than ever. That optimism that came with divine power and status seemed to dwindle away. Crowley always figured Aziraphale harbored some self hatred but this--this was bad. As an angel he was immune to depression--as a human, things were different.

"You act like you being an angel has anything to do with how I see you." Crowley had joined him by the bookshelf, leaning against it to get a better look at Aziraphale. "Angel, human, demon...I don't care. I still feel the same way about you as I always did."

Aziraphale's hand paused upon a book, as if he wanted to say something, but he shook his head. He went to sorting more books down the shop, as if he was trying to get away from Crowley; Crowley however followed him. 

Aside from the horrors of his current state, something else, at that moment was getting to him. Something made him fidgety, antsy almost as if attempted to stay as far away from Crowley as possible. It was only when Crowley caught up to him, when he took hold of his hand to turn him around did he see the look of sheer horror and agony in Aziraphale's eyes.

"What is it?"

"We've known each other for over six thousand years Crowley and I will never forget those moments. However, I just realized that....mortality isn't my only curse. Death is as well...not just by old age, but by anything...an accident, a murder...anything Crowley." He exhaled. "I need to sit...can we go back to the front?"

"Yes, yes..." Crowley responded, his own heart (or what he considered his heart in this body) beating as he figured just what Aziraphale was getting at.

Luckily it was closing time meaning they were alone. Yet, that made things seem even worse; such a large space for the two of them--it seemed lonely. 

"Time is no longer promised to us Crowley and the angels...they've made it clear that when I die, I'll no longer exist." As he took his seat at one of the empty tables he exhaled. "So everything we've wanted to do...to say...we should say it now. Or tomorrow...or..." He drifted off, as if he was unsure.

Crowley took the other seat at the table, his eyes sympathetic behind his glasses. "What do you want me to say? Aizraphale?"

"What you feel. What you've always felt." 

This was one of the most painful moments. When Crowley was able to actually look at Aziraphale, look into his eyes, at his face and see how immortality truly weighed down upon him. It was moments like this, when he was lost for words. He didn't know how to speak, what to say...or how to feel. He was just overcome with sadness.

"Lost for words I see. I still have that effect on you--"

"There is a way Aziraphale, to save you. To make you immortal again, you know that!" 

There was a change in Aziraphale's face. He paled, his cheeks turned red and he quickly stood up, heading back to the bookshelf.

"Crowley, we've talked about this--"

"And I'm asking you again! You wanted to know what I think, well this is what I think. There is a way to help you, but you're just afraid." By now, Crowley was making his own strides toward the bookshelf where Aziraphale had retreated to. 

"I'm not afraid, I'm just being cautious." He admitted, though there was a lie in his voice. "I just think that perhaps if I do what I'm supposed to, if I don't mess up then the angels will....maybe they'll be fair, they'll take me back--"

It was at that time, Crowley took Aziraphale by the shoulders and rather roughly turned him around so that they were both staring at one another. He exhaled, a million things running through his mind as he tried to find something kind to say--something that wouldn't hurt Aziraphale while pointing out the obvious. 

"Heaven isn't fair...they'll never be fair and you know that. Gabriel doesn't want you, Michael doesn't...none of the angels do but I...I want you." His hands tensed on Aziraphale's shoulders as he attempted to look away. "You know what I've wanted to say, what's always on my mind...is that you're too kind, you're too naive and see the good in everyone. I blamed it on you being an angel but...others aren't like you. You are genuinely a kind and just being and....heaven isn't ready for that. No one is."

"No one except you." Aziraphale's repose seemed automatic, as if he knew that was what Crowley was thinking. Crowley, releasing his shoulders took a breath, and exhaled. 

"No one except me." He repeated. "You know I can help you, and I want to help you. Let me help you." 

There was a silence that passed and Aziraphale felt as if he has succumb to temptation. He knew what Crowley wanted him to do--what most humans did when they devoted themselves to demons. When said humans wanted gifts, money, fame, etc....they'd pledge themselves to a demon using blood pacts. If the subjects of the demon were faithful enough, their wishes would be granted. This happened years ago, in the Dark Ages and medieval times. 

Now here Crowley was, a demon so taken by a mortal, he found himself begging for Aziraphale to make this pact. To go against everything he ever knew, and ever believed in, to bind himself to a demon for immortality. 

"The angels, they'll never take you back." Crowley urged.

"I just don't know Crowley, I really don't-"

"I can't lose you Aziraphale." Crowley responded, his expression helpless as if had been meaning to say this for ages. "I just can't. I don't know what I'll do if I can never see you again. I know this sounds selfish but I'm a demon, I'm meant to be selfish. So please, don't deny me this."

From where he stood, Aziraphale could perfectly see the anguish behind Crowley's glasses. How his hands fell to his side as if he didn't know what to say, hoping that admitting his deepest desire would somehow sway Aziraphale's conscious. 

"Okay." When Aziraphale said this, his eyes widened, as if he was unsure that he had actually agreed to making an actual blood pact, without a demon. "I know how it's done--the rituals, the fasting, the offerings--"

"Yeah, there will be none of that with you." Crowley responded carelessly, waving a hand in the air. Aziraphale noticed instantly, the change in his mood. Back then, if for a second he let his vulnerability show when he thought he'd lose Aziraphale, it vanished in a moment when he figured he'd have him for eternity. 

"Then what is there to do?"

"This." Seemingly from no where, Crowley had pulled a rather large knife from his pocket. It was laced with markings and symbols; some languages as far back as the beginning of time. "I draw blood first--" With that, Crowley drove the knife from his palm to his wrist, lathering the edge of the knife on it. "Now you next."

"Here? In the bookstore Crowley? Now?"

"Better now then never, don't think I know you won't try to change your mind." He handed his human the knife and Aziraphale took it. The knife felt so heavy in his hands, as if he was juggling all of the poor souls Crowley had taken and devoured over the years. There was a small part of Aziraphale that wanted to say no--perhaps Crowley was tricking him, perhaps he wanted his sou to eat. Yet, at the same time, Aziraphale knew Crowley. He knew that Crowley had loved him, he had for thousands of years and this pact was just the last attempt he could possibly make to keep Azirphale.

"I'll do it." Azirahpale spoke, rolling down his sleeve. "But I swear if you joke about me being a demon I'll stab you with you."

"We wouldn't want to have that now would we?" 

With that, Aziraphale closed his eyes and plunged the knife into his own palm. With every slice, he felt his divine energy slipping away like drops of blood upon the floor until finally, he could feel his angelic nature no more. And with that, the humanity that he had just so gotten used to vanished. Suddenly his arm began to hurt, like a burning sensation causing him to drop his knife to the ground. It was as this self inflicted wound had grown infected, and that infection spread to his body until Aziraphale was in too much pain to stand. Yet as he fell forward, he was not at all surprised when Crowley caught him, holding him close and steadying him until after what seemed like an eternity, the pain was gone. 

"See, the worst of it is over." Crowley's voice came over him like a wave of relief and with his help, Aziraphale was able to stand. 

"H...how do I look?" He asked, shakily. "Like an angel again...like..." 

"Not quite, grey hair still...those sad human eyes..." Aziraphale didn't wait for him to finish, he rushed to the bathroom mirror. Needless to say, he was displeased with his appearance.

"I didn't change at all...I'm still mortal, I'm still...I still look like this?"

"You're as much mortal as I am. You made a pact with me, I have your soul and you can't die, you can't age unless I will it." Crowley's reflection appeared in the mirror as he approached Aziraphale from behind. 

"I'm not the same Azirapahle I was in the past." He shuddered. "Do you...is this what you want Crowley? Didn't you want me to be--"

"Here you go again, being stupid and clever at the same time!" Crowley nearly yelled. "I love you for you! You could be one of my incompetent plants and I'd still love you. I've gotten used to the grey hair, I just wasn't going to get used to you dying!" It was then he grabbed Aziraphale and slowly, pulled him into a tight hug. Aziraphale, feeling Crowley for one of the first times as a "human", marveled at how warm he was...how otherworldly he felt. There was no heart beat, no breath...just a shell with a voice and somehow life.

"No matter what happens, you're still going to be an angel to me. That's all that matters."

And with that, Aziraphale exhaled. Perhaps this wasn't all that bad at all.

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked it, please leave a comment and kudos! let me know what you think!


End file.
